


you with the sad eyes, don't be discouraged

by KHart



Series: storm clouds may gather, and stars may collide (but I love you, until the end of time) [3]
Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, I am emotionally vulnerable and wanted to make you all feel it too apparently, and they love one another I promise, angsty fluff, but it's soft, the breakup was everything I feared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 00:54:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15740805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KHart/pseuds/KHart
Summary: What happened following the breakup we all knew was coming at Summerslam.





	you with the sad eyes, don't be discouraged

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hurting. You're hurting. We're all hurting. 
> 
> Here have some softness. 
> 
> \---
> 
> My Tumblr is flairfatale, please come talk about the breakup with me, and also how Becky deserves to be a 2x women's champion.

Charlotte doesn't see Becky for a full hour and a half after their match ends. A full hour and a half after she's left lying on the floor with an aching face and a broken heart... 

There were too many interviews she had to do, too many photos she had to take, and just a few more tears she had to cry, that she didn't want the other woman to see, so she didn't go looking for her. 

But even without the sight of Becky there to make it all sink in, keeping her character turned on, keeping the devastation on her face, wasn't hard. It wasn't something she had to fake _._

And even  _now_ , after everything has been said and done, she thinks she might tear up at any second.

Even now, one and a half hours later, her makeup is still smeared and sad-looking around her eyes.

Even now, she knows she looks pathetic.

Because it's been just long enough for the welt on her cheekbone to redden enough to be seen through her foundation. 

And though her hair is still in its styling, it's messy and almost completely undone. 

And though this couldn’t be considered the end of the world by any normal standards, _to her_ , it’s the end of theirs: The one they built and were allowed to live in for only a brief time.

So, even now, she _feels_ just as bad as she looks, if not worse.

Each step she takes makes her bones ache dully and her head pound worse. Every movement of her muscles sends some sort of pain through her body. Every breath she inhales hurts more than the last.

And the same, _godforsaken belt_ still sits upon her shoulders, so horrible and heavy and easy to hate.

It's still just as she remembers it. Smooth, supple leather cool to the touch against bruised skin.

But it feels like it weighs too much this time. It feels like it doesn't mean enough and, yet, means everything all at once, and she almost wants to throw it off of her.

Because, truthfully, she doesn't deserve it...

Not in the way that she usually does. Not in the way that she always pushes herself for.

Because, yes, though she _is_ always fighting for it. Though she is always moving and growing and working to get to the top.

It’s not enough right now.

This wasn’t her fight to win, and she definitely didn’t want to win _like this_.

She doesn't and _won’t ever_ want to win when it means Becky loses _because of her_.

Becky should be the one holding the belt right now, and she knows that. She knows that it's Becky who should be celebrating her win right now.

She wishes it was Becky who was  _happy_  right now… 

 _God_ , how she wishes Becky was happy.

Charlotte would drop any title, any match, any _chance_ at a main event, if it meant that Becky would be happy.

She would play the bad guy, the sad guy, the all-around worst person on the roster _forever_ , if it meant that Becky would be happy.

All the other woman has to do is ask, and Charlotte’s ability to travel to the ends of the Earth would suddenly increase tenfold just to make it happen.

But Becky won’t ask. She never asks. Because she wants Charlotte to be happy too.

And that makes their situation sting just that much more.

Because while Charlotte can’t seem to stop feeling like it’s partially her fault, Becky can’t seem to stop reassuring her that it’s not.

She can’t seem to stop showing her that she doesn’t blame her. That she doesn’t blame anyone other than the executives and creatives at WWE.

She can’t seem to stop being the best person Charlotte’s ever had the privilege of knowing, and that’s why Charlotte almost doesn't want to see her girlfriend now, one and a half hours later. Because she knows that the emotions she's managed to confine just to her chest are going to come back up and spill over again as soon as she lays eyes on the woman. 

As soon as Becky’s gaze connects with hers, Charlotte’s heart is going to start to throb within her chest again, because Becky deserves the whole world and Charlotte knows she can’t _give it to her_.

"Hey, Queenie."

Charlotte jumps harshly as a sudden hand lands on her shoulder, soft but still startling. Her eyes snap back to use, and she has to blink harshly at their dryness for a few moments before she can see clearly enough to know who she's talking to, as if the accent didn't already give them away.

She smiles weakly.

"Hey, Shea-mu."

"Hey," he repeats quietly. "You did good out there."

Her smile gets dimmer, even though her lips stretch out further.

"Thanks."

He nods, falling silent for a second. 

"Hey, uh, your girl's been looking for you. Don't know if you wanna see her or not, but I said I'd let you know if I caught a glimpse of ya."

Charlotte swallows thickly, giving a nod herself as she rises to stand from where she had been sitting sadly at the bottom of one of the arena's abandoned staircases.

"Okay." She clears her throat from its roughness. "Thank you."

He doesn't say anything in response, just gives her shoulder another reassuring squeeze that makes her feel, once again, like she might burst into tears.

And, god, why did she have to be born so _soft_?

She sniffles as she walks away, and it doesn't take her long to make her way to the women's locker room. 

She hovers outside the door for, maybe, a minute or two, because when has she ever really been brave, and then she gives in to the inevitable.

Becky's the only other person in the room when she steps inside, and, so, she instantly looks up at the sound of her entrance. 

Their eyes meet, just as Charlotte knew they would, and that pang in her chest appears, just as she knew it would.

She releases an unsteady exhale through her nose. 

Becky stands and takes a few steps towards her.

"Hi, love," she greets softly, opening her arms as Charlotte _finally_ puts down the title, for the first time since she got it. 

Charlotte's chin trembles. Her knees wobble a little when she moves a few paces forward. Becky's eyes are sympathetic as they watch her.

"C'mere you."

Charlotte closes the rest of the distance between them, suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of being apart any longer. She bends down to fully hug Becky around her body, underneath her shoulders instead of over, and then she lifts her up so that her legs can wrap around her waist. 

She travels the few feet over to where Becky had been sitting before easily, taking the spot for herself and leaving Becky sitting in her lap and wrapped around her.

Her fingers, still shaking subtly, grab loosely at the fabric of Becky's shirt as she buries her face into the strands of her hair. Becky's fingers, ever so gentle, curl into the tangled locks at the back of Charlotte's neck. 

And then that's how they sit, for god only knows how long. 

For minutes, moments, hours they just hold each other, breathe each other in, don't ever want to let one another go.

When they eventually do pull away, it still doesn't feel like it was long enough.

Charlotte blinks at the blurriness of her vision, wishes she could just take her tear ducts out forever. 

Becky tilts her head, her gaze drifting between Charlotte's eyes to Charlotte's tear stains to the swelling on Charlotte's cheek.

She shifts her hand so that her palm is resting on Charlotte's jaw, and then she uses her thumb to stroke lightly across the raised area of skin she can't seem to stop staring at.

"Hit ya a little too hard, didn't I, love?" she asks finally, her voice so,  _so_  gentle, and maybe a little guilty too.

Charlotte shakes her head immediately.

"No," she reassures. "I overcorrected at the announce table and hit it on one of the chairs wrong. S'not your fault."

"Well, I'm still the one that threw ya, lass."

Charlotte tightens her grip around Becky's waist.

"Don't," she says simply. "It went as well as we expected. Even better than, actually." She smiles lightly. "They loved it. Loved  _you_."

Becky's lips upturn then too.

"Well, they always love me."

Charlotte tilts her head forward in concession with a chuckle. 

"That they do. Rain or shine."

Becky's eyes, shining and soft, caress the lines of her face as if they haven't already committed them to memory and suddenly need to. 

"Yeah. And I love them too, of course," she whispers. "But you." Her other hand comes up to frame Charlotte's face. "You I love the most."

Charlotte feels the lump in her throat throb. Her grin gets a little larger, a little fonder, a little less strained. 

"Well, I love you more than anything," she responds. "More than whatever they throw our way."

Becky quirks up an eyebrow.

"And if I have to throw you over another announce table?"

"I might just love you more."

Becky's nose scrunches up.

"Weirdo," she mumbles without malice, leaning closer to press their foreheads together. 

Charlotte shrugs, her eyelids fluttering shut. 

"You're hot when you're angry, Becks. Don't come for me because I have eyes."

The sound of Becky's laugh makes Charlotte's heart feel lighter—less constricted at the thought of facing a future where she won't be able to show her love so openly.

"Yeah, well, seeing you cry is still number one on the list of things I hate, just in case you were wondering. But don't worry, I've already got your acceptance speech ready for when you win your Oscar."

Charlotte's own laugh is breathy. She starts to massage light circles into the small of Becky's back. 

"I'm afraid it didn't take much acting for that, love."

Becky pulls away again at the downturn to Charlotte's voice. 

"Hey," she calls, waiting for Charlotte to fully look at her again before continuing. "I meant what I said during that hug. We're gonna be okay, you and me. And we're going to sell the hell out of this feud." She wipes away some of the dried mascara under Charlotte's eyes. "With you and I in the ring, they're going to get the content for primetime television they try to pretend Raw gives."

Charlotte manages to produce a smile at that, her heart fluttering with fondness at the sound of such sureness in Becky's voice.

"Yeah. And in the end you're gonna steal my title and have the longest reign in history, right?"

Becky flashes her a smirk.

"You're damn straight." She pauses. "Well, hopefully not _too_ straight. But you know what I mean."

Charlotte rolls her eyes.

"Oh my god, you're such a _nerd_."

Becky leans in to press a sound and much-needed kiss to Charlotte's lips, in favor of finding a verbal response; Charlotte hums happily into it.

She feels her heartbeat finally start to settle more calmly within her chest. 

Her fingers find their way to Becky's hair, and they card their way through gently. 

The world feels silent and still, with no element present to rush them away from one another.

It's only them existing in the moment together. 

And it's moments like these that Charlotte knows make all of it worthwhile. 

So, yeah, this feud might take a lot out of them. It might be rough at times. 

But it's not the end of their world like she thought. 

Sure, it's the end of their more public affections. 

Charlotte won't be able to smile and laugh and stare at Becky like she's become accustomed to, but as long as she has these moments of tenderness with her girl away from the cameras and the crowd, she thinks they're going to be alright. 

Becky smiles against her mouth.

Scratch that. She _knows_ they're going to be alright.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> my Tumblr is flairfatale!


End file.
